


The Mystery Boys

by stuartdakins



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett, Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Scooby Doo Fusion, Crack, Gen, Goth Dakin, Halloween, I blame Katy and Louise, goth dakin always, literally the stupidest thing I have ever written, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuartdakins/pseuds/stuartdakins
Summary: On an ill-fated night out, the gang encounter a local legend.(aka the scooby doo au nobody asked for)
Relationships: David Posner/Donald Scripps, Stuart Dakin/Tom Irwin
Comments: 40
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this other than. A very silly conversation that ended up spawning the headcanon that turned into... this. It'll probably end up being very short and silly (but I said that about the Christmas fic I still haven't finished, so)

The Lockwoods' old camper van trundles through the crisp autumn night, the wind and the rain battering it as it struggles along under the weight of eight rowdy teenagers. At the wheel is their fearless leader, Jimmy Lockwood, who's under strict instructions not to leave a scratch on his dad's precious van. In the passenger seat is his best friend, his partner in crime, one Anthony Timms - knocking back beer and stuffing his face with pizza. In the back, the rest of their comrades drink and laugh and sing along to the radio, only stopping to occasionally ask how much longer it'll be until they get to Manchester. 

"I don't know," Lockwood sighs, exasperated at being asked for the fiftieth time. "Tony, are you  _ sure  _ we haven't missed the exit?"

Timms frowns and checks the map again, and, noticing pizza grease smeared on its surface, wipes it away with his thumb. "Oh! Shit. Sorry - sauce on the map. Yeah, we were supposed to turn off a while ago."

"For fuck's sake, Tony! I gave you one job-"

"I'm shit at this! Why can't you do it?" 

"Because I'm  _ driving!" _

"Oi, Jimmy," Scripps pipes up from the back. "Why  _ do _ you insist on driving your dad's old, clapped-out hippie-mobile everywhere anyway?"

"It's the only thing big enough for all of us! Or do you want to show up to the Smiths concert in your mum's car because there wasn't enough room in mine?"

"Here,  _ I  _ wouldn't mind a lift in Don's mum's car, know what I'm saying?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Tony!" Scripps snaps, chucking an empty beer can at Timms' head.

"Shut up, the lot of you! Alright, I'll come off at the next exit, turn the van round. We might miss the support band, but we should make it in time for-"

The van judders to a halt, and the boys clamour and shout as Lockwood tries in vain to restart the engine. Upon further inspection, a look under the bonnet reveals thick plumes of smoke coming from the engine. He groans and looks up apologetically at his friends. 

"Shit. Looks like we'll be here a while."

Rudge kicks the side of the stupid, miserable van. "Great. Well now we're definitely going to miss the concert. Thanks a bunch, Jimmy."

"My dad's going to  _ kill  _ me…" Lockwood mutters to himself.

"Hey, it's not  _ your _ fault his van's a piece of shit," Dakin says, swaying a little as he slings an arm around Lockwood's shoulder. "This was bound to happen eventually."

"Not helping, Stu!"

"Here, I think I saw a payphone a little way back," Crowther chips in. "Let's go ring for help, why don't we?"

The boys call roadside assistance, who tell them they'll be another two hours, so they resign themselves to their fate and polish off the rest of the beer in the back of the van. But with another hour left to kill and the rain beginning to ease off, they turn their attention to their surroundings. As they stumble their way through the woods by the side of the road, the crumbling ruins of an old monastery come into view.

"Hey, look at that!" Timms exclaims. "I'm going to go and have a closer look - you lot want to come?"

Dakin and Lockwood look at one another and shrug. "Sure, why not?" Lockwood says. "Adil, you coming?"

Akthar nods, and Crowther and Rudge quickly fall in line. But Scripps and Posner stay rooted to the spot and refuse to take another step.

"I'm cold," Pos complains. "Give us the keys, would you, Jimmy? I think I'll just wait in the van."

"Yeah," Scripps agrees. "You idiots want to break your necks dicking around some old ruins in the dark, be my guest. David and I will be in the van."

"Sounds like someone's scared…" Lockwood teases him.

"Oh, sod off. Someone should wait by the van anyway, in case roadside assistance turns up."

"Alright, here you go." Lockwood tosses the keys to Posner and Scripps, who head back in the direction of the roaring traffic as the rest of their number make their way towards the ruined monastery.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which pos and scripps just want to cuddle in peace but the gang have other ideas

It's freezing in the back of the broken-down van, but Scripps finds a couple of blankets under the seats, and he and Posner huddle together for warmth. Pos dozes off pretty quickly, his head in Scripps' lap, but Scripps savours the peace and quiet, watching the world go by until he begins to feel himself nodding off too.

They're woken with a start, however, by the rest of the boys piling back into the van. They sound out of breath, as if they've been running, and they all look pretty shaken up - even Dakin, who's usually pretty unflappable.

"What's wrong?" Posner asks, picking himself back up and shaking off his earlier sleepiness.

"G-ghost!" Timms stammers. "In the ruins."

"What? You're having us on!" Scripps laughs incredulously. 

"We're serious!" Lockwood protests. "We were just having a look around, and then - this bloody great headless prick comes out of nowhere and scares the shit out of us!" He's white as a sheet - and the others look equally freaked out. 

"Headless - are you sure?" Posner asks. "It was dark, maybe you just _thought_ you saw-"

"We know what we saw, mate," Timms insists. "You weren't there!"

"No, but…" Scripps sighs. "Last time you thought you'd seen a ghost, it turned out to just be dickheads from school trying to scare us. And the time before that it was just Hector in a shit costume. And I know you and Jimmy fancy yourselves as paranormal investigators, but I can't believe the rest of you are encouraging them!"

"Trust me," Rudge says. "You know I'm usually the _first_ to tell them they're full of shit, but... I saw it too. We all did."

"Well, gang!" Lockwood says, spurred on by the others' agreement. "Looks like-"

"Please don't say it," Scripps groans.

"Looks like we've got another mystery on our hands!"

"Oh, for fuck's  _ sake _ ..."

*

The following morning, they're gathered around Lockwood's kitchen table, discussing the events of the night before. Posner and Scripps still aren't quite on board, but it's half term and they've nothing better to do, so they tag along anyway. Besides, it serves as a useful distraction from their disappointment at missing the Smiths concert.

"So, what's the plan?" Crowther asks. "What do we do now?" 

They look to Lockwood and Timms for answers, more out of habit than anything else - they're always the ones coming up with ridiculous schemes and dragging everyone else along on their batshit capers.

"I think we need to do some research," Akthar pipes up. "Find out what we're up against. See if the library has anything on local history, urban legends, that sort of thing."

"I've got a better idea," Dakin says with a smirk. 

"Fuck's sake, Stu…" Rudge sighs.

"What? Don't you think it's time we called in an expert?"

"You just want an excuse to flirt with Irwin!" Scripps retorts.

"Hey! ...I can multitask."

_ Irwin & Sons, Purveyors of Rare Books & Oddities (est. 1893),  _ proudly proclaim themselves Sheffield's best occult bookshop - which they are, but only by virtue of being Sheffield's  _ only _ occult bookshop. With Irwin Senior off discovering the joys of retirement, and the mysterious disappearance of his eldest son on a ghost-hunting trip around South America, his youngest, Tom, has all but taken over the premises. He's in his early twenties - skinny, bespectacled - and Dakin looks at him like the sun shines out of his arse. It's the only reason Dakin bothers accompanying them on these adventures - it certainly isn't out of an interest in amateur sleuthing.

Lockwood shrugs. "It's not a bad idea, I suppose. Shall we head into town, then?"

Dakin looks horrified. "Not  _ now!  _ Let me at least do _something_ with my hair first..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which dakin has zero game, and the gang discover an important clue

It's two hours later when they finally arrive at Irwin's shop - Dakin wafts in on a cloud of hair spray, clad head to toe in black. It's as if, the others observe, he thinks he's more likely to attract Irwin's attention if he looks like something from one of his beloved books. He's borrowed his mum's makeup again, and tried to paint his nails black - but the nails look like they were done by an enthusiastic toddler, so he shoves his hands in his pockets and sulks, much to the boys' amusement.

"You're so gay," Scripps teases him as Pos laughs along helplessly.

"Pretty fucking rich coming from the two of you," Dakin snaps back - but his bad mood is forgotten as soon as he sees Irwin behind the counter. "Tom, hi. How's business?"

Irwin smiles politely and tries not to gag on the overpowering smell of hair spray. "Oh, you know. Same old. What can I do for my favourite amateur ghost detectives, then?"

"We're your favourites?" Dakin sighs, a stupid grin forming on his face.

"Stu, he's obviously taking the piss," Lockwood says as he elbows his way to the front of the group and shoves Dakin out of the way. "We've had a ghost sighting. Ruined monastery outside of Manchester - headless bloke in some sort of monk getup. You wouldn't have anything on that, would you?"

Irwin thinks it over for a moment. "I might have something for you in the local history section - come with me."

He leads them to the back of the shop and rifles through the shelves. "Let's see - vampires, werewolves, witches… Ah - here you go.  _ The Haunted North: A History of Ghost Sightings in Yorkshire and the Surrounding Counties." _

He hands the book to Lockwood, who starts flicking through its contents while the others peer over his shoulder - with the exception of Dakin, who would rather chat to Irwin in a quiet corner of the shop. They leave him to it and read over Lockwood's shoulder, until they spot a black-and-white photograph of the monastery from the night before.

"There it is!" Timms exclaims. "That's the ruins from last night."

"Well, what does it say?" Rudge asks eagerly.

"Give us a minute!" Lockwood mutters. "Right, here we go - thought to be one of the most haunted places in Britain… fell into disrepair after the dissolution of the monasteries in the late 1530s…"

"Yeah, yeah - get to the good stuff!" Akthar says impatiently.

"Alright, hold your horses. Aha - those who refused to convert were executed for treason… it is thought that their spirits walk the grounds to this day..."

He turns the page and there's an illustration that perfectly matches the vision they'd seen last night - a figure in bloodied monk's robes, arms outstretched, head missing.

"Shit! That's him!" Timms cries.

"Wait - are you telling me you  _ actually _ saw a proper ghost this time?" Scripps asks. "Not just some prick in a costume?"

"That's what we've been  _ trying _ to tell you," Lockwood says with a roll of his eyes.

"That's what you're  _ always _ trying to tell us, though - you'll forgive our scepticism."

"Whatever. So, the Mystery Machine should be fixed by Friday - what do you lot say to another trip to the monastery?"

The others all murmur in agreement - except Dakin, who's still fluttering his eyelashes at Irwin and hasn't heard a word of their conversation.

"Oi!" Lockwood calls out. "Stu!"

"...anyway," Dakin carries on, oblivious. "I'm really into classic horror films…"

"Please!" Scripps scoffs. "You had to sleep with the lights on after we watched  _ The Addams Family!" _

"I was like, eight," Dakin protests. "I mean - no I didn't! Shut up."

Irwin stifles a laugh - but bizarrely, he seems charmed by the utterly ridiculous spectacle Dakin's making of himself. "Well, they're showing  _ Night of the Living Dead _ in town on Halloween night. I was going to go alone, but - you could come with me? If you want."

"So long as I can hold your hand during the scary bits," he says with a wink - as their audience make disgusted retching noises. "Oh, fuck off! We're having a moment."

"Spooky ruins. Friday. You coming?" Lockwood says exasperatedly.

"Yeah, sure - whatever."

"Actually," Irwin pipes up. "Would you mind if I came too? For all the years I've spent studying the occult, I've never actually…  _ seen _ a ghost."

"Sure, why not?" Dakin says with a smile.

Lockwood isn't convinced. "Might be a bit cramped in the van-"

"Oh, Tom doesn't mind - do you, Tom?"

"Um-"

"Great! That's settled, then. I'll see you Friday."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which dakin continues to be a slag, and there are more cameos, of sorts

With the Mystery Machine (just about) roadworthy once more, the gang set a course for the ruins. Lockwood's right - the van isn't big enough for nine people, but they manage. It helps that Posner and Scripps are sitting so close that Pos is practically in Scripps' lap - Dakin seems to be attempting something similar with Irwin, but Irwin's self-consciousness doesn't allow anything of the sort. Self-consciousness or, perhaps, carsickness - certainly not helped by the stench of smoke as Timms lights up a spliff next to him. But they make it to the ruins without incident, and as Irwin drinks in the fresh country air he relaxes enough to allow Dakin to put an arm round him.

In the light of day, they're able to get a better view of the land surrounding the ruins - deserted roads, fields stretching as far as the eye can see, a little cottage on a hill the only sign of life in sight. That is, until they reach the top of the hill and see what's on the other side - the place is a bustling construction site, the idyllic countryside being torn up and filled in with concrete. 

"Bloody hell!" Timms exclaims. "What do you reckon they're building?"

Lockwood gestures to the billboard looming above them. "I think it might have something to do with  _ that." _

They all roll their eyes in unison - looking down at them from the billboard is notorious hotel tycoon, one-time mayor, and all-around mustachioed arsehole Felix Armstrong. He's already swallowed up half of the Yorkshire countryside and is clearly looking to expand his operations. The sign reads:  _ Coming Soon! Armstrong Leisure's Latest Development! Luxury Golf Resort & Spa! _

"Smug prick, isn't he?" says a voice from behind them. They turn around to see an old woman in the cottage's front garden, tending to her plants. "Count yourself lucky you don't have to wake up to _that_ view every morning."

The gang laugh in agreement and start to relax a little, having found common ground with this stranger, and Lockwood offers her a handshake.

"Pleased to meet you," he says. "I'm Jimmy Lockwood. My colleagues and I are investigating some… suspicious activity in the area."

"Dorothy Lintott," she says, accepting the handshake, before looking Lockwood and his 'colleagues' up and down. "Aren't you a little young to be a detective? You look about fifteen."

"I'm eighteen!" Lockwood whines. "Well, I will be. Next August."

"We're not with the authorities," Timms explains. "We're sort of - freelancers, if you will. Private investigators. I don't suppose we could come in for a chat?"

Dorothy still seems suspicious of the boys, but decides to humour them. "You children are delightful," she chuckles. "Well, I wouldn't mind the company. Fiona - my granddaughter - usually visits on weekends, but she's come down with a nasty cold. I'll put on a pot of tea and we'll see if I can help with your little… investigation."

"Fuck's sake. I'm twenty-two," Irwin mutters, a bit put out at being lumped in with the 'children' - but Dorothy doesn't hear him. 

"Alright," Lockwood says with a smile. "Why don't we split up? Tony and I will stay here with Mrs… Lintott, was it? And you lot can head to the ruins and look for clues."

"So you scaredy-cats can stuff yourselves with tea and biscuits while we do all the actual work? No way," Akthar scoffs. "I'm staying here too."

Crowther and Rudge murmur in agreement. 

"Well, David and I want to check out the ruins," Scripps says, taking Posner by the hand. "Irwin, I assume you're coming with us?"

"You know, you could just call me Tom…" Irwin sighs. "But - yes, of course I'm coming with you."

"I'll come too," Dakin says quickly. "Should be a laugh. Plenty of dark corners to... skulk around in - if you know what I mean."

He raises an eyebrow at Irwin, who gives him a shove and tells him to behave.

"Slag," Scripps coughs in Dakin's direction - and Dakin can't deny it, so he laughs good-naturedly instead. (Scripps suspects his good mood has to do with Irwin, but knows better than to say so.)

And with that, the four of them head off towards the ruins, while the others follow Mrs Lintott into her cottage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which mrs lintott is living the cottagecore lesbian dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I haven't been posting much lately, been super busy with irl stuff - including adapting Lying Works (Except You Ought To Do It Properly) into an original short film, which is super exciting!! I definitely want to adapt more of my fics in future but I won't be neglecting the thb fandom, honest

The boys have struck gold - Mrs Lintott's just taken a fresh batch of scones out of the oven, and she's far too polite not to share them with her guests. By the time she's got the butter and jam out of the fridge, Timms is already tucking into his second, insisting he can't solve mysteries on an empty stomach.

"That's quite alright," she chuckles. "So, what can I help you with? I do love a good mystery."

"Well," Lockwood replies. "Have you seen anything unusual in the last few days? Anything at all, it doesn't matter how insignificant it seems - the smallest detail could be vital to the investigation."

She ponders the question for a moment, as Lockwood waits, notebook in hand, pen poised to start taking notes.

"Let me see… Larkin's been feeling a bit poorly, bless him," she says, gesturing towards the fat ginger cat curled up by the fireplace. "But that's hardly unusual. Of course, I've been fending off Armstrong's goons at all hours of the day, but I doubt that's relevant…"

"What does Felix want with you?" Akthar says, puzzled.

"Oh, he wants this land to build a clubhouse for his poncy golf resort. But I've told him a thousand times, I'm not selling - no matter how much he offers me. This cottage has been in my family for generations, and I'm not letting him and his merry band of twats bulldoze it."

"Well, good for you," Rudge says approvingly. "Someone ought to teach that prick a lesson-"

" _ But, _ " Lockwood interrupts. "What we're investigating is something of a less… earthly nature. Do you believe in ghosts, Mrs Lintott?"

She's silent for a moment - then bursts out laughing. " _ That's  _ what you're investigating? Well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't believe in any of that stuff."

"But you live right by those creepy old ruins..." Crowther says, slightly disappointed.

"You've never seen anything? Felt a... presence, even? 

"Ah yes, the old monastery," she chuckles. "Yes, I used to teach history before I retired. I know all about the dissolution of the monasteries and those monks being executed. I've heard the rumours about the place being haunted. I'm afraid that's all they are, though - I've lived in this cottage my whole life and I've never seen anything besides tourists down there."

"We have, though!" Lockwood insists. "The other night, in the ruins - headless bloke, real as anything - we all saw him, didn't we?" He looks around at his friends, who all nod in agreement.

"If you ask me, it sounds like you just gave yourselves a fright exploring those ruins in the dark. You probably just thought you saw something move and let your imaginations run wild. But - I am sorry I couldn't be more help."

"That's alright," Timms sighs. "Thanks anyway for letting us in - and for the tea and scones. We'll be on our way just as soon as the others get back from the ruins. I just hope they're doing better than us…"

*

Pos and Scripps stand idly by the entrance to the ruins. Having agreed to meet them back here in an hour, they've spent another twenty minutes waiting for Dakin and Irwin - but finally they come into view, Irwin looking a touch apologetic but Dakin looking oblivious as ever in his ludicrous goth getup.

"You're late back," Scripps informs them. "I hope that means you found something?"

"Not exactly," Dakin replies with a smirk. 

"For fuck's sake…" Posner sighs. "Have you two just been canoodling this whole time?"

Irwin looks affronted. "I'm strictly here for research purposes!" he protests.

"Yeah?" Scripps retorts. "Is that why you're wearing his lipstick?"

"Shit!" Irwin mutters under his breath, hurriedly scrubbing at his mouth. "Damn it, Stu - why didn't you say something?"

"You're fine," Dakin reassures him. "They're just messing with you."

"You checked, though, didn't you?" Pos says teasingly. "So my point still stands."

"Oh, keep your hair on," Dakin replies witheringly. "We mostly just wandered around looking for clues. Besides, it's not Tom's fault, I can be very distracting when I want to -  _ ow!"  _ He scowls at Irwin, who's smiling sweetly as if he hasn't just elbowed him in the ribs.

"So, no luck on the ghost front, then?" Scripps sighs. "No haunted ruins, no headless monks - just Jimmy leading on another sodding wild goose chase."

"Um, guys?" Posner pipes up.

"It wasn't just Jimmy," Dakin reminds him. "I saw it too, we all did."

"Guys?"

"The only thing you saw was an opportunity to cosy up to Irwin!" Scripps says derisively. "That's the only reason you ever indulge Jimmy's nonsense. You don't really believe in this shit-"

" _ Guys _ !" Posner says sharply, catching their attention at last. 

They turn around to see him white as a sheet, trembling, gaze fixed on the ruins behind them. There, clear as day, is the headless figure - outstretched arms clad in tattered robes, lurching towards them.

"Fuck me!" Scripps exclaims. "Alright, now I believe you."

"Shit - where's my camera?" Irwin mutters as he begins rifling through the contents of his bag.

"Never mind that," Dakin says, clinging to Irwin for dear life. "Fucking  _ run _ !"


End file.
